The Shadow of Your Smile
by tihku
Summary: New 52, set up after the battle between Joker and Batman. Jim Gordon receives an unexpected call, which turns his otherwise ordinary night upside-down.


**Author's**** notes:**

new 52, set after the battle of Joker and Batman.

This is a story of a traumatized commissioner and his journey to face his fears. This is also a story of a clown who is going through a shock... in his own special way.

Once again, I'd like to thank anyone who reads this stuff! Also, special thanks to _**evillives4ever,**_ **_lovejoker _**(wow _wow_ **_wow guuuuysss_**, you two really blew up my mind!) and **_Resident_****_ Evil Lionhart _** for comments/favs/other support!

I'm sorry that this is not directly a story about Joker **and **Batman, but, you see... _Joker **is** always about Batman_. Thus, Batman is included in this story, even though he is not present in the physical sense. If this is not enough, though, it is completely OK to skip the fic! :)

Regarding First Aid Kit-fics: They will most likely remain one-shots. I'm bad at improvising, and I need a clear direction if I were to write a longer story line. I apologize for this! However, I might write separate fics that have references to these two in the future ;)

* * *

**The Shadow of Your Smile**

Gotham in the late autumn: brisk, biting. The streets are full of lights to illuminate the upcoming dark season. Even though Christmas is nowhere close, every little boutique is already decorated with elves, reindeer and plastic spruces.

You feel a bit left out of all the people roaming in the streets, searching for presents, humming carols. Perhaps it's because you were just released from the hospital.

You are still not at your best. It takes time to fully recover, and you try to fasten the process; however, your efforts seem to backfire you. You haven't smoked for the longest time in years, and your body is crippling. You can't _sleep_.

A small creak startles you. You turn around in your seat, only to see that there is _no-one _behind you.

You sigh.

It's not just the lack of nicotine that keeps you wide awake at nights.

It's _him;_ the clicking, almost _silent_ resonance, created by his tongue hitting against his palate. It haunts you. He sounds like a bomb about to explode, and you know that's what he really is. The _mere thought_ of him lying beneath your bed distresses you. The knowledge that he has _actually_ done so is far too tormenting for you to handle.

Ever since the incident at the police station, the apartment hasn't felt the same. The warmth is gone. The _illusion_ of safety is dead. You really ought to move. It's not a solution, and you are painfully aware of that – from _that_ day forward, you will never feel safe anywhere that's secured by mere, naive locks.

But you can't remain there. You simply can't.

Barbara is sleeping in her room. A few weeks ago she wanted to leave, and _now_, when you really want her to be somewhere else, she insists on staying. She doesn't understand why you, all of a sudden, started deliberately to push her away.

You haven't told her. You haven't told her the terrifying things that lunatic planted into your mind. You don't know when you're going to; it's possible that you never will.

You stare at the street down below when, suddenly, your mobile phone begins to vibrate on the bedside table. You take the phone and look at its flickering screen. It's the middle of the night and you are not familiar with the number, but you answer nevertheless; because of your job, you know that it could be critical not to.

"Jim Gordon", you state in a matter-of-factly manner, lowering your voice so that Barbara wouldn't wake up.

There is a short period of silence on the other side of the line. You wait patiently. Then, abruptly, the other person exhales deeply and starts talking:

"_I'm… new to this ssssort of thing, but shouldn't you start with something __**sexier**__ than that, Commissssssh? Like, whispering sweet, little, __**naughty**__ nonsense to my ear until it turnssss __**red**__…_"

You almost drop your phone.

"You", you gasp. Cold sweat forms on your temple, you thud on the edge of your bed…

"_**Goooooood**__. You still remember… __**one**__…__personal pronoun. Not much, but it'sss always __**a **__**start**__._"

As your shock ceases, your anger does the opposite. You grit your teeth together and continue listening:

"_Hmmm. It seemssss that I picked a wrong service from the telephone directory. Heehee… Lessee… Is this pizza delivery? Taxi? I hope the latter, because I reeeaally __**need**__ a ride._"

"What do you want?" you snarl, which seems to amuse him.

"_Aggressssssive. You sure do know that I dig __**harsh talk**_", he giggles. "_But didn't I already say? I need an excursion from place A to B. A __**joy**__ride, ya know?_"

You massage your temples so hard it hurts.

"Go to _hell_."

"_Gone there, done that. But seriously, do a __**gal**__ favor here. We have known each other so long we are practically __**buddies**__–_"

You breathe in heavily, and he hears it.

"_Aw_,_ all __**sour**__, aren't we? __**Pity**__ me a bit, please! It'ssss all dark! You wouldn't let your little __**Barbsssss**__ roam the streets alone during these hours…"_

"Leave Barbara out of this", you warn, even though your threats seem just to thrill him. "What are you after? Why do you want _me_ to drive you to _God-knows-where_?"

He laughs. You are not sure, but his cackle sounds even emptier than ever before.

"_Shhure, __**sure**__. Whatever ya want, Commish_", Joker says. "_See, I'm in a bit… compromised… position over here… all soaked, tipsy drunk–_"

"You are **drunk**?" you spit the last word like a sip of boiling coffee. The situation is getting more and more surreal by every passing second.

"_I had a __**really**__ bad day, __**OK**__?_" Joker snaps, and, for a brief moment, he sounds very irritated. "_You normal folkssss do this kind of thing quite frequently, and so I thought: 'Why nnnot?'. A bad decision, I tell you…" _He sighs. "_Anyway. Thisss might interest you… I'd like to go back __**home**__. Arkham, I mean. I'm tired._"

You fall silent. The clock ticks on the wall.

"You… Are _willingly_ going back?" you ask warily.

"_Uh-huh._"

"How can I know that this is not one of your sick plans?"

"_Ya __**can't.**__ But_", he laughs. "… _you don't have much of a choice, __**Jimmy-boy**__. I have a niiiiice __**detonator**__ over here. Just a tiny move of my fingertip, and there will be a beeeeautiful firework somewhere in Gotham… You know, I could come over __**there **__to your place and watch the show on TV. With you and Bar– oh-I-shouldn't-(heehee)-use-her-name._" He pauses and continues in a threatening manner: "_If that's what you really want._"

"You **monster**", you growl. "Ok. _Fine_. I'll come get you. Where are you?"

"_Remember the movie theater I gassed half a year ago? That'sss where I am._"

You almost hang up, but his voice stops you:

"_Hey, there's still a thing or two to mentionnnn. Do not bring other copsss. Don't take your pistol with you. I'm an unarmed clown, after all, sssso it would be unfair. __**And**_", he puts emphasis to his last command. "_**Keep Batfake out of this.**_" There's a sudden anger in his tone, which vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving you puzzled. "_That's all. I'll be waiting for ya…"_

He hangs up. You drop your mobile phone on the blanket. There's a surge going on beneath your skull. Your pulse is going wild. You try to settle your breathing, but it seems to be an impossible task.

There is a psychopath that has a clear fixation on you.

Your body works on its own, lifting you up, sneaking silently through the apartment. You look at Barbara's room and see her sleeping figure.

She is pretty.

You see the slight, peaceful movement of her ribs going up and down. You gaze at it as if this was the last chance – in fact, you can't know. It's a horrible feeling. The clock ticks. You have to go. You have to.

Finally, you leave the door to your daughter's room. Joker told not to take your gun, but you do that anyway. You curse that your bulletproof vest is at the office. You have to go without.

You slip out of the door and shut it softly after you.

It doesn't take long that you are sitting in your car, driving the monotonous streets, turning right and left and left and right… You take quiet routes on purpose, because you can't concentrate on a vivid traffic. Your heart is racing. The cold metal of your gun presses against your skin.

You think of Barbara again. You regret that you didn't at least leave a note for her.

Finally, you are in front of the movie theatre. It's all silent. The whole city block died after the incident which cost lives of 32 people. You sit in your car and look around.

The lights of your car are catching a figure faraway.

You get out of the car, eyes fixated on the person. He is sitting on the ground, right next to a red telephone booth. You take a hold of your gun and walk closer to the man. He doesn't look at you. A hood is covering his head, and his face is directed downwards. There's a bottle of whiskey in his left hand. You don't see anything else in his grip.

You hesitate for a moment – are you even sure that this is Joker? The man could be any boozer, snoozing in a wrong place at a wrong time. Your hand is trembling.

There is a pool of water around the sitting man. It's not raining; small water drops drip down from all over the man's body. He is wet except for his hoodie.

You remember Joker's words.

"**Hands up**", you command tensely and point your pistol at his figure. The man startles.

"_Uh_… Oh. Hello there, _Commish_. I took a _beauty nap_ while I wassss waiting for you…" he giggles softly and swifts. He truly seems drunk.

Then, he notices your gun.

"Heyyyy, _deal breaker_!" Joker exclaims and tries to lift himself up, only to fall back onto his bottom. He giggles and hiccups.

"**Put your hands up**", you say again. "Make any other move, and I'll **shoot**."

Joker waves his hand vividly.

"_Geez_, no need to be such a tight-asssss", he complains. You swing the point of your gun threateningly. "Ok, ok, **ok**_**.**_" Joker lifts his arms, but they slump back. He snickers.

"_Commisssh_, this is embarrassing, _buuuut_… My limbsss are going through _a spaghetti_-phase."

You sigh. It's hard to tell whether he is just acting or not.

"_Fine_", you finally say. "I'm coming to take the detonator. **Don't move**."

You advance with caution, gun point always fixated on Joker. He waits, all quiet, which is extremely dubious. Your heart is killing you. You reach for his hoodie and touch its fabric. Nothing happens. You proceed and –

He slams your gun vertically, making you almost pull the trigger by accident, and he takes it, oh **God**, rips the gun out of your grip…

Joker points it at you and _laughs_.

You back off.

"Oh Jim, Jim, _Jimbo_." he says gleefully. "It seems that tables are turned. Ya know, I should punissssh you for betraying my ordersss…"

You glare at him. A sweat drop rolls down your temple.

"I'll think about it… but, help me get up, willya?" he continues.

"Joker. Stop pretending. You just stole a gun from my hand. You are **not** drunk", you growl.

"… But I **am**", he says and sounds sincerely perplexed. "I **am**. See the bottle? 60% alcohol. Bitter assss _hell_. I shouldn't complain, since I got it for _free_… just like this tacky hoodie." He spreads the fabric with his long, spidery fingers.

"Where did you get them?" you ask. A shiver goes down your spine.

"Uh… There was a _defunct_ drunkard rotting in the trash binnn. So I decided…" Joker hiccups. "I decided he doessn't need these."

You frown.

"And you really drink that stuff? You have no idea what it contains. There could be poison in it."

Actually, now that you think about it, you hope that there _would_ be toxin in the liquid.

"Jimmy-boy, always worrying about thingsss… This is exactly why Barbara wantss so desperately to move away from you", he says and snickers. "You don't know how to live in the moment!"

"You don't know **anything** about my personal life", you snarl.

"Yesssss, tell that to yourssselfff, Commish! Shut your eyes; thrust a _knitting needle_ into your earssss! But since I'd rather not have a blind and deaf driver, sssave that for later and pick. me. up. **now**."

He starts to run short of patience, and so you decide to obey.

Joker leans heavily against you. You wonder if he does that on purpose. He is poking the gun point to the back of your head. You get drenched because of his wet clothes.

He smells like litter and puke.

You gasp for air when he is finally seated in your car; you wonder how you are going to stand the stink inside the car.

You think about running away. You could. But Joker has the detonator. You can't let civilians die. You are a police officer; you can't let them down.

And so, you adjust yourself to the driver's seat. You turn the key, and the car starts.

"Your punishment", Joker says ghastly. You gulp. "… We are not going straight to Arkham. I want you to fetch a little something for me from a store. That_ issss_ your punishment."

Your eye brows rise at the unexpected demand.

"… What it is that you want?" you ask warily.

"A** mask**. Any sort of _massssk_ will do."

You hear him toss something out of the car before shutting the door. You turn to look at him and see that he has taken off his hoodie.

His face.

Oh _God_.

Red tissue covers the whole area, and you can see every inch of his muscles, his teeth, his eye balls. You saw that once, at the police office, when he came for his face. It happened by accident. You were not supposed to see. You could tell that by the slight, almost unnoticeable change in the rhythm of his speech before he tossed your flashlight away.

You thought that he would crack your neck at the very moment.

He didn't.

Joker sees you staring.

"It was tastelessss", he says, referring to the hoodie. "And it smelled. I just used it to warm me up, and it has served its purpossssse already."

You are thankful in a way that he threw the shabby clothe away. The stink level lowered radically with it. There is, however, something else bothering you…

"What if someone sees your face?" you ask as you start driving.

"No-one will notice a thing, Commisssh. Trust me. People are soo _egocentric_…" you roll your eyes, as you don't know anyone else as narcissistic as Joker. "… Almost nothing getsss to their conscioussnesss… They can concentrate on only onnne thing at a time and that isss their own **navel**. I", he pauses. "_**I**_, on the otherrr hand, can focusss on **multiple** aspectsss… _Hmm_. For example, you have stopped sssmoking, haven't you, Commmisshioneerr..?"

You give him a sideway glance.

"_Sssso_, I am **right**. _Goooood_ for ya, Commish. You smell _fresh _as a newborn _baby_… But, you should sleep some more. Nasty black rings ya have there, circulating your eyesss." He pauses. "Isss it because of the lack of nicotine orrr _**me**_?"

"_I am not scared of you_", you say gruffly and turn to a long, dim-lit alley. Joker seems amused by your claim.

"You **arr**_**rr**_**e**! I can see it… Little Commishhh, looking underrr his bed at nightssss… _Heee_", he mocks you and laughs. "You should actually _**thank**_ me. I made ya realize… Realize that there issss no ssuch thing asss _privacy_ or _sssecurityyy_. _Hee_. Look at me, for example… I wasss in a loocked cell, guardssss outside… And _thisss _still happened."

He points at his face and stares at you intently.

"Of courssse, I _wanted_ this."

You gulp dryly. The atmosphere is pressuring. You park the car close to a shop.

"_Remember that I have the detonatorrr…_" he hisses quietly as you are getting out. You don't reply; you simply shut the door behind you and feel sudden nausea as you advance for the building.

There are a couple of others in the small market. You feel lost. All these people and no-one can help. It's familiar, this feeling. You have met with various situations like this before. You never get used to it. You are scared, but you keep on going.

_If you don't do this, who else will?_

You find a shelf that has a couple of masks. Kids' party masks. Frogs. Pigs. Bats. Cats. You are not sure if any of these would satisfy the lunatic. You take one of all of them, pay, look at the cashier in the eyes, he doesn't notice anything. You thank dryly and return back to the car.

He is waiting.

"These are all they got", you say and hand Joker the bag of masks. He takes out the mask of a cat.

"Too Catwoman-issssh", he drops it back to the bag.

The pig mask.

"Hmmm. Remindss me of Professsor Piggy-Pyg", he murmurs. "Nope."

The bat.

He stares at the mask for a prolonged time. You notice a small shiver in his hands. All of a sudden, he tears the mask into tiny shreds. Without saying anything, he settles up with the mask of a frog, placing it onto his face upside-down.

You don't comment.

"Let's go home", he simply states. There's no humor in his voice; just tiredness.

He is unusually quiet for a long time. You look at him, only to see him staring back at you. You turn your gaze back to the street.

Then, something seems to catch his attention. He turns the volume of the radio up.

"_Oooh_, I** love** thissss song. Makesss me want to sing, but I'd feeelll embarrassed to siingg alone… Commishhh?"

"… I don't know this song."

He becomes vivid all of a sudden.

"Whaaat? You ssseriouss? You are _olderrr_ than _me_ and _dunno_ this? _The Shadow of Your Smile_, for **Chrissssakes**, sung by lovely _Barbra Streisand_?"

You keep silent.

"_Fine_", he sighs finally. "I'll sing alone."

And that's what he does. He hums at first, and then, he opens his mouth:

_The shadoooow of your sssmile when you are gone__  
__Will color all my dreamsss and liiiight the daaaawn_

Joker doesn't keep completely in the tune, but you are surprised by his singing voice nonetheless.

_Look into my eyes, my love, and see__  
__All the lovely thingssss you are... to me..._

You keep on listening to him and notice a slight change in his tone. His voice starts fumbling a bit and becomes tense every now and then. It sounds as if he was trying not to swallow. You frown and try to figure what is going through his mind…

… _Now when I rememberrr spring, all the joy that... love can bring__  
__I will beee rememberinnng the shadow of your s__mile._

The song ends when you finally _realize_. You don't believe yourself at first; in fact, no-one would. It's hard to. It's impossible.

He is a _monster_.

He is a _cold-blooded_ mass murderer.

He laughs at misery.

There is no way he could possibly be…

…

… _crying_?

You glance at him.

It's difficult to prove your intuition right. Joker can't experience feelings the same way as normal people would. In addition to that, he doesn't have his eye lids any longer. His body is unable to produce tears.

But then, you see his pupils.

Normally, they are as piercing as sharp needle points.

Now, they are _dilated_.

The sight confuses you. You don't know how to react. You don't pity him. You don't feel particularly happy in a malicious way, either.

You'd just like to make him stop. You'd like to leave the car at the precise moment and forget what you saw. Instead, you keep on driving in the surreal dream.

Finally, you get to Arkham Asylum. It's all silent outside when you stop your car. You offer your hand to Joker, who dismisses your help.

"What would Daddy Arkham ssssay if I got back home, all tipsy-topsy, only able to proceed with the support of **another man**? I'd rather **not** experience that", he laughs lightly. He starts limping towards the gate, but then, he turns around.

"Oh. Your gun, Commissssh."

He holds your gun from its barrel and hands it over to you.

"… You said you had a bad day. What was it about?" you ask as you grip the pistol. Joker lifts his shoulders.

"I'm _taken_, Commish, but didn't I tell you **not** to worrrry..? At least, not about _me_. You have better thingsss to be concerned about…" he says. "Such asss **this** detonator."

You startle at the sight of the small device in his hand.

"**Put it down**", you growl and point your gun at Joker. He giggles and flings the detonator between his fingers as if it were a mere pencil.

"I donnnn't think so, Jimmy-boy. As you said, I've had **a bad** day… And what would bring a sssmile to my face better than deliciousss show of _sparkles_?"

He lifts his thumb, you shout, everything seems to slow down

and then, a shadow comes in between you and Joker.

You hear Joker hiss as the shadow rips the detonator out of his hold in one swift movement.

"_Wifelet-dear? _Well, this is a pleasant meeting indeed", Joker murmurs and doesn't sound pleased at all. Batgirl stands in between you and him. Her cape whirls in the wind.

"_Joker_. You have had enough of your _fun_", she says.

"Tonight, perhapssss… But for_ eternity_? No. Never", he cackles.

Batgirl must have called help from the asylum, as several guards come and take hold of Joker. He doesn't give resistance, making just small snarky remarks to the men around him. When they start to drag him away, he calls out for the last time:

"_Batsssygirl._ _I hope that you have thought of what I said earlierrrrr… Heehee_"

You see Batgirl clench her fists.

Joker's cold laughter fills the air and clings even when he is behind the gates.

"… Thank you", you manage to say finally. Batgirl smiles softly at you. There is something familiar in the way she does that, but you are not sure what.

"No need to thank me. I followed you the whole time from the theatre to here, waiting for a chance to strike. You are a brave man, Commissioner Gordon. You really are. However…" she pauses. "Don't face the horrors all by yourself ever again, ok? There are others all around you. _We _are here to help you. You are not _alone_."

You are at a loss of words. When you finally open your mouth to speak, she is gone, vanished into thin air.

"Just like Batman", you mutter and smile.

* * *

You are back home, and somehow, it really does feel like a home again. You walk silently in the apartment and take a look at Barbara's room.

She is still sleeping in the same position.

You gaze at her and wonder how much a father can love his daughter. You don't believe anyone can adore more than you already do. You tilt your head and smile tiredly.

You advance for your own bedroom.

The night has been unique in its bizarre way.

When you sat in the car after Batgirl left, you noticed that you hadn't ever recharged your gun. You and Joker had threatened each other with a harmless pistol. Maybe it's because of the past stress, but the thought makes you laugh for some reason.

You climb into your bed and put off the lights...

... And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep and do not wake up to small creaks during the night.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Besides (haha) the word '_smile_', the selection of the song is highly inspired by Scott Snyder's intriguing writing:

"_And ignore the fact that what you saw those tiny pupils do was expand. Expand for you after you stared back long enough. Ignore the fact that what you saw those black points expand with…was love._"

Thus, the song's lyrics: "_Look into my eyes, my love, and see / __All the lovely things you are to me_" fit quite nicely (at least in my opinion)!


End file.
